


we're better (you know we're better together)

by aphrodite_mine



Category: The Heat (2013)
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, F/F, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/pseuds/aphrodite_mine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look, my place is a shithole, obviously. You've told me often enough. And it may or may not have a rat infestation so I figured it was time to grab opportunity by the balls and relocate."</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're better (you know we're better together)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marginalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginalia/gifts).



At approximately 1600 on the 3rd, Agent Ashburn opens the door of her apartment to find Detective Mullins still poised with her hand hovering over the doorbell. The doorbell-ringing hand holds a six-pack. In her other arm, she has a box.

"You were about to ring the bell again, weren't you?" Sarah narrows her eyes. "And don't lie to me. I can see right through you."

"If you gave me a key, I wouldn't have to keep ringing this damn thing."

"Social niceties suggest that you don't have to _keep ringing_ regardless." Of course, Detective Mullins isn't the greatest at social niceties. 

"Damn, Ashburn. I leave you alone for more than twenty-four hours and you start reading the dictionary! If I didn't know any better, I'd think you wanted to be alone for the rest of your life."

Sarah huffs. "What I _want_ is for you to tell me what the f--" she clears her throat "--the fuck you're doing here."

Mullins laughs, pats Sarah on the shoulder and easily pushes past her into the living room. "That's my girl," she says, still not explaining. "Look, my place is a shithole, obviously. You've told me often enough. And it may or may not have a rat infestation so I figured it was time to grab opportunity by the balls and relocate." Ignoring Sarah's borderline-horrified expression, she continues. "We'll be like sisters! We can wrestle and make mud pies and beat the neighbor kids at four square. I know you're saving the guest bedroom for an 'office' but its not like you do any real work--"

"Excuse me, I absolutely _do_ do real--"

"Do do. _Nice._ "

Sarah sighs, a massive dramatic exhale that she's learned from the best of them. "I can't send you back. That would make _me_ the asshole. How exactly did you make me the asshole?" 

"Hey, you said it, not me." Mullins shrugs, grins. "All I know is I've got this box in my arms and a pretty convincing set of puppy eyes."

"Damnit."

\--

They get a cat. Because that's the sort of thing sisters do together. He is grey and long-haired, because orange is probably too full of bad memories about how shitty Ashburn's life used to be.

"Figure I owe you one," Mullins explains when they go to pick Mister Mister up from his first vet visit. "And you!" she coos, wagging her fingers at the carrying cage the receptionist is bringing out. "I owe you one, or two. Sorry 'bout your balls, buddy."

Mister Mister mewls pathetically, but doesn't seem to miss them.

\--

"Okay," Sarah says, holding up a single finger of objection. "Even though you live with me, there is no way we can do this every night."

Mullins takes the opportunity to spit a mouthful of terrible beer in Sarah's direction. "Hey, hey! You say that like you don't think I have any restraint! Restraint, I will have you know, is my middle name. Shannon Restraint Mullins."

"Oh yeah? Well my middle name is--"

"Laura."

"I… am not sure how you found that out, but yes. Much more like. A name. That is like. A _real_ name."

"Real? I'm real. One hundred percent. Authentic."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it."

\--

"I vaguely remember trying to arm wrestle you?"

"Yeah," Mullins grins. "And then you tried to take your shirt off to demonstrate your muscles. Which would explain why you're all--" she gestures at Sarah who, despite being awake for at least ten minutes now, still hasn't untangled herself from her now-stained white button-down.

"That… does not sound very sensible."

"I'll tell you what isn't sensible -- not managing to purchase curtains in the more than six months you've lived in Boston. Who the fuck doesn't buy curtains? Jesus Christ!"

"Uh, blinds are _super_ sensible."

"Are you really gonna argue that they're sensible when the sun is in your face and you're all squinty and terrible?"

"I'm not --" Sarah blinks. "Did you sleep in my bed? With me?"

"Hell yeah. Ashburn, your couch is scratchy, I hate to tell you. Also, you puked on it."

\--

Despite Sarah's insistence that this won't happen every night (to be fair, it doesn't) it _does_ keep happening, down to the half-assed efforts at stripping and waking up in a tangled mess in Sarah's bed. Sometime in the morning, Mister Mister makes a wary appearance, having learned that being MIA during drunk shenanigans is really best for everyone.

(Mullins' bed is gross anyway. It's much better suited for holding boxes.)

Besides, it is a real shame to let Ashburn's bizarre bartending abilities go to waste. For someone who managed to stay so straight-laced for so long, she has an impressive retinue of drinks memorized. "It was for a job, obviously."

"No one would _ever_ believe you were a real bartender."

Sarah finishes up a drink and pours it out with a flourish. "So, you're saying you don't want to drink that, cause I'm not a real bartender?"

"False assumption." Mullins takes a hesitant swallow, then a happy one. "Just suggesting that you dress the part."

"These pants are _just_ as comfortable as 'booty shorts' or whatever you're planning on whipping out of my closet and forcing me into." Sarah is already buzzed, but not quite buzzed enough to want to put on a fashion show. Not after Mullins actually fell on the floor laughing at her suit jackets. 

"You know what I say?" The question is rhetorical, but the belabored pause afterwards makes Sarah feel compelled to answer, stopping mid-pour and saying "No?" before Shannon continues. "I say, hey. It's your house. Wear what makes you comfortable."

"You've literally never said that."

"Doesn't make it not true."

Sarah narrows her eyes and decides that she'd better catch up with Mullins fast or this is going to be a long night.

\--

"Make me another drink!"

Sarah rolls towards Shannon on the couch. It really _is_ scratchy. "Make it yourself, greedy."

"But I want _you_ to make it."

Giving up, Sarah holds up her own glass. "Just finish mine off, kay?" It feels like a good idea to hold the glass up to Mullins' mouth and tilt it without waiting for confirmation. Naturally, and to Sarah's frustration, this leads to half the remaining shot dribbling down Shannon's chin. Setting the glass down with a clink, she frowns. "You're a mess."

"Yeah, 'cause 'a you."

"Lemme--" Sarah leans closer still and licks broadly, flat-tongued up Shannon's chin to her bottom lip. "Um." 

"Do that again," Shannon says, and Sarah does. A lot.

\--

The hangover (as usual) is pretty spectacular.

"I'm… pretty sure I kissed someone last night," Sarah whispers from beneath her palm. It doesn't do much to block the light but a little pressure on her forehead helps. "Please tell me I didn't do anything stupid."

Shannon shifts, grabbing Sarah by the wrist and tries to wrench her hand away. Sarah grunts, pulling back, then catches herself smiling and groans. "I'm actually pretty sure you did something _brilliant_ 'cause you kissed _me_ , Ashburn, you big queer!" And now Sarah wishes she _had_ been watching because underneath the boasting, Mullins' voice is soft. 

It's too late now, because the panic is already rising. "Whoa, whoa -- I'm not gay!"

"Me either, man! But I don't know, after mine, I figure you've got like, the fifth smokingest body I've ever seen _and_ you taste like mints which is fuckin' unheard of. Don't know if you, like, snuck into the bathroom to brush your teeth or what, but I gotta say." Mullins traces a single line down Sarah's arm. "I like it."

The thing is, Sarah likes it too. And that's really damn scary.

\--

Sarah has paperwork, and Shannon has a Bill Cosby Show marathon, so they manage to get through the day without argument (or more kissing). But the thought of falling asleep together makes Sarah's chest tight and just after sunset she mumbles something about groceries and drives to the office instead. 

Ashburn sleeps in her office that night, making a pillow out of outgoing paperwork. It is uncomfortable and too loud and not nearly soft enough and Mullins isn't there. Whatever the reason, Sarah gets almost no sleep and still doesn't realize until her alarm goes off that she hasn't thought ahead and brought clean clothes. There's no way she's showing up to work wearing a wrinkled blouse and sweatpants. And she doesn't realize until she pulls up to the apartment complex and jangles her keys that the one she needs most is missing. 

Thankfully, the cat door in back is open and if Sarah opens the flap and whispers she's pretty sure she can hear Mister Mister's bell jingling. "Hey buddy!" Sarah hisses, tapping her fingers on the linoleum. She hasn't quite figured out what she's going to do with the cat once he joins her. Hold him ransom? Way too drastic. Maybe he can find her keys and--

"Lookin' for a pussy to pet?"

Sarah jerks backwards and manages to whisper "No," without too much squeaking.

When Shannon speaks again, her voice is much quieter. The sort of voice you'd use when talking to a small child, or a man on a ledge. Sarah didn't imagine her capable of such a thing. "I'm gonna open the door and you aren't gonna run away, okay?" 

It's easy to agree, but not so easy to huddle, embarrassed, on the deck when Mullins' face is so… open. 

"I forgot my keys."

"I was worried about you."

"I'm sorry, I just got--really, really scared and--"

"Went on a massive bender." Mullins nods, sagely. "It's okay. We've all been there." It's only because Sarah Ashburn is one of the CIAs finest agents that she can detect a small note of humor in Mullins' voice. A small note of… understanding? ...too. 

Sarah sighs and sits back on her heels. She wobbles a little, then gives up, slumping on the deck and unconsciously mirroring Shannon's pose. "I'm still a little scared." She shakes her head. "I'm not used to being scared."

"Yeah, what the fuck happened to being brave?"

"I think _you_ did."

"So maybe I'll just be brave for both of us." Shannon smiles and wiggles her hand under Sarah's. "Wouldn't be the first time."

" _Excuse_ me!"


End file.
